Harry Potter and the Devil’s Apprentice
by Letishia
Summary: At the age of 7, Harry Potter disappeared. 10 years later, the world is in turmoil. The Order of the Phoenix struggles to survive as the Dark Lord reveals his mysterious Apprentice. Is all hope lost or is it lurking in the most unlikely places? AU
1. A Prelude to Hope

**Harry Potter and the Devil's Apprentice**

**Summary**: At the age of 7 Harry Potter disappeared. 10 years later, the world is in turmoil. The Order of the Phoenix struggles to go on as the Dark Lord reveals his mysterious Apprentice. AU

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I'd be charging you to read this and I wouldn't be so broke.

1st chapters are my weak points, please excuse them and read on. This first chapter in particular is being used to give a brief history of what has been happening in the wizarding world since Harry's disappearance and set the scene for the story.

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Chapter 1: A Prelude to Hope

Sirius Black sighed and took another swig out of the bottle he was drinking from as he slumped on the couch of his home turned headquarters. This day always depressed him, July 31st. Seventeen, Harry would be seventeen today. Whatever his godson was doing, Sirius hoped it was better than what he was doing. Looking over at his best mate, Remus Lupin, he knew the other man was thinking the same thing.

Molly Weasley, unofficial matriarch of the Order of the Phoenix, said they were lucky. Perhaps they were, in a way. They had each other and they were alive. But there were days Sirius wished he'd just drop dead. He'd failed everyone when he'd been sent to Azkaban because of sheer stupidity on his part. He'd escaped when, by chance, he'd asked to see the Minister's paper during a Ministry Inspection. It had said that the Ministry was going to pronounce Harry Potter officially dead (though Dumbledore would continue a private search on his own). Sirius's His need to find his godson had been the only thing keeping him alive ever since. Eventually he'd escaped, and by some miracle, Peter Pettigrew had been found bound and gagged in the middle of the Ministry atrium. The truth about who had really betrayed the Potters was soon out, and Sirius had returned to freedom. Yet he still continued his fervent search for his missing godson.

That search was getting harder and harder to keep up, however. Two years before Sirius escaped Azkaban, in 1992 (Harry would have been eleven then), Voldemort got his hands on the Sorcerer's Stone. Although Voldemort was too weak to gain immortality with it at the time, he did restore himself to a body and had been slowly gaining power for the last six years. The Order of the Phoenix had managed to destroy the Stone in the end, but by that time the Stone had become irrelevant to Voldemort's survival. The Ministry, of course, refused to believe the Dark Lord had returned until it was too late.

Suddenly, Nymphadora Tonks burst onto the scene holding a Muggle newspaper over her head and tripping over a coat hanger (she really wasn't the most coordinated person).

"You will not believe this!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"What, "Sirius looked up, amused despite his depression. " You've decided you want to have normal hair color from now on?"

Tonks grimaced, "Hell, no!" She ran a hand through her spiky blue hair with a grin. "I think I saw a picture of Harry in this Muggle paper."

"Is this why we were called here?" Severus Snape stepped into the room, stalking behind Albus Dumbledore. "Because you _think_ you saw a picture of a dead kid in some Muggle piece of trash?"

But for the first time in ages, Sirius didn't care at all what _Snivellus_ had to say about anything. Just a month ago, he had been positive Snape was a Death Eater when he cleverly faked the murder of Dumbledore during a security breach at Hogwarts. The worst thing Snape had really done that night was rescue the Malfoy kid. But now the rest of the world was sure that Dumbledore was dead and Snape was aligned with Voldemort. Only a few select members of the Order knew the truth. At least Voldemort was certain of the former Potions Master's, and as of last year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's, loyalty to him.

Sirius grabbed the paper from his cousin Tonks and looked intently at the front page of the evening paper. On it was a picture of the building the Death Eaters had destroyed just that morning. Searching through the rubble was rescue workers trying to find survivors. Right in the center of the photograph was a young man with scraggly black hair, glasses, and bright green eyes. He was looking for something. Sirius's heart stopped for a moment. Those were Lily's eyes. It was James with Lily's eyes.

"Harry," he choked, his eyes felt watery.

Could this young man, dressed in nothing but badly torn jeans, converse sneakers with a hole in one of them, and a ripped t-shirt that looked like it'd been nicked from a rubbish bin, really be his godson?

"It is him!" Remus's eyes were large, large and scared.

"It can't be," Dumbledore said finally with a sigh. "Check the forehead, no scar."

"What do you mean?" Sirius barked at his former headmaster.

"Voldemort hit Harry with an Avada Kedavra curse sixteen years ago. When I saw him last, he had a lightening bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. You know this Sirius. These scars don't fade. Thus, this cannot be Mr. Potter."

"YES IT CAN!" Sirius heard himself shriek, "It's Harry, you think I don't know my own godson? He's alive; he was in London this morning!"

"Padfoot…" Remus started.

"Since the Order will be meeting tonight," Dumbledore attempted to change the subject. "Perhaps it would be more beneficial to discuss Voldemort's Apprentice? Severus has just reported that more rumors than ever concerning this mysterious enigma are circulating among all of Voldemort's followers. The latest being that The Apprentice is able to perform the Cruciatus curse with not only non-verbal, but wandless, magic. And to an enormous extent nonetheless…"

"I don't care about some damn Apprentice!" Sirius growled. "I'm going to go find my godson!"

With that, he turned into his Animagus form and dashed out of Headquarters. The Apprentice was important, true. As soon as Voldemort let his charge help with the dirty work he usually had to do himself, it was almost certain an unstoppable force of evil would be officially in business. (Most of England had lost their moral after learning of this.) But all Sirius cared about for the moment, was that his godson was out there somewhere. Searching through the rubble of a Death Eater attack was no way to spend your birthday.

* * *

OK, so I've had this idea in my head for quite a while and I had to get it out of my system. I'm not too sure about where it's going to end up although I have a pretty good idea about where it's going. Please tell me if I should continue it of not. 

Yes, Sirius is being a little immature. Please excuse him, his mental state isn't the most stable.

Not sure when I'll update next. I have about a million activities (including a football game tonight halfway across the state I have to perform at with color guard) and I haven't finished my summer homework yet. Believe me, I would much rather be writing this for you guys than writing about the English Petition of Rights.


	2. An Unwanted Birthday Present

**Harry Potter and the Devil's Apprentice**

**Summary**: At the age of 7 Harry Potter disappeared. 10 years later, the world is in turmoil. The Order of the Phoenix struggles to survive as the Dark Lord reveals his mysterious Apprentice. AU

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter.

OK, so the question is: Is the guy in the picture Harry Potter and if he is whose side is he on? Well, I'm not telling.

* * *

_But all Sirius cared about for the moment, was that his godson was out there somewhere. Searching through the rubble of a Death Eater attack was no way to spend your birthday. _

Chapter 2: An Unwanted Birthday Present 

"You know, searching through the rubble of a Death Eater attack is no way to spend your birthday," a tall brown-haired boy told his friend with a disdainful sniff. "Not that I care what _you_ do," he added a little too quickly as an afterthought.

The raven-haired boy he was talking to leaned against a huge heap of rubble and rubbish beside him rolled his eyes, "Like the fact it's my birthday actually changes anything. The word 'birth' alone is completely contradicted by the constant presence of death."

"One thing's for sure," his friend joked, "this party you've got going on, the whole dig-through-rubble-thing, is way dead. It's as dead as disco."

"Not as dead as the Order of the Phoenix though," the other boy replied, absentmindedly fiddling with a piece of his t-shirt that was a small tug away from being completely torn off.

"Says the guy who's always talking about never underestimating others…"

"They're being picked off like flies! One of them got skinned alive just yesterday. I'm surprised they haven't thrown in the towel yet. What do _they_ think they have that we don't anyway?" he asked before picking up a piece of the day's newspaper that had blown by. He flinched as he glanced at the front page, "I really should have disguised myself better. Someone could recognize me…"

The brunette beside him laughed, "You mean you should have disguised yourself in general. You did all of nothing to hide your identity. Well, almost nothing, just rushed straight here. I wouldn't worry about it too much if I were you though; it's not as if anyone we're involved with reads this Muggle crap."

"You know what? Brown hair doesn't suit you; you're a dumb blond through and through."

The blond-turned-brunette was about to throw something heavy at his friend when a female rescue worker interrupted their jovial spat.

"Lulu, Jay-Jay, shouldn't you two be home by now? It's getting late. Besides that three-hour lunch break you boys took, you've been here all day," she berated as she passed them.

'Lulu and Jay-Jay' both looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"OK," said the green-eyed, raven-haired 'Jay-Jay', "maybe we _should_ stop making up alternative names for each other. We get more brutal every time we do."

"At least we didn't pretend to be 'Rover and Queenie' this time. If we keep up this downward spiral of humiliating each other, we'll scare away all birds in London, none of them want to date a guy named after a female poodle."

"Is the opposite sex all you think about, _Lulu_?"

"Shut up, _Jay-Jay_."

Suddenly, the boy with the scraggly black hair became aware of something cold and wet on his hand. Looking down, he spotted a big black dog whining and panting eagerly at him. He grinned and scratched it behind the ears.

"And to think people consider you bad-ass…" his mate snorted.

"I am too bad-ass, you pansy." He looked down at the dog that was now sniffing him wildly. As the dog got close to his pocket, however, he jumped back in alarm, "Keep your big nose out of there!"

"Oh please, it's just a dog," the other boy snorted. "Not like he's gonna figure out what's in there. With the kind of pants you're wearing, all you need to worry about is that mutt getting lost in your pockets. Come on, we found what we were looking for, lets head out. I'm in desperate need of some prime rib, you should be too; you haven't eaten all day…"

"I think this dog is trying to tell me something, let's just follow him…"

"What the f…"

But before the blond in disguise could utter a single expletive, his friend had dashed after the dog that was leading him to a nearby alley. He sighed and followed his companion. When he finally caught up, however, something very peculiar happened. About five meters in front of them at the back of the alley the dog stopped, then started to change. Its body shifted and rearranged, morphing its very existence until it took on the human form of a tall man with long black hair and eyes the color of steel.

"Harry?" As the man posed the one-word question his eyes, full of nostalgia and something that could have been hope, never left the raven-haired boy.

Both of the boys widened their eyes in alarm, an exclamation of 'oh shit' was heard, and they both took off around a corner. The man tried to follow, but when he rounded the corner, there was no one in sight. Only one trace of evidence that the boys had been more than a hallucination remained: a small piece of an old t-shirt, lying on the path.

* * *

Yes I am being vague. Don't like it? Sucks to be you. 

So are these two teens good? Bad? Somewhere in between? And who the hell are they anyway (this should be pretty darn obvious by the way – the nicknames they were using ARE a hint)? Find out in the next installment of Harry Potter and the Devil's Apprentice! OK, so maybe not the _next_ installment, but the one after that you can get confirmation on who the two are (if I haven't changed my mind by then).

I haven't had much time to write and probably won't until football season is over. Right now my life goes as such: wake up, go to school, go to color guard practice, do massive amounts of homework, go to bed, rinse, and repeat. : P

If you want to know how the progress on any of my stories is going, I have a place at the bottom of my author page that can tell you what you want to know about updates (if not, contact me). The section should bein **bold**; if you can't find it, go back to kindergarten.

Thank you to all who reviewed, I'm too busy to reply to them all, but I just want you guys to know I really appreciate you and all that jazz. You give me warm fuzzies inside. : )


	3. Harry Hunting

**Harry Potter and the Devil's Apprentice**

**Summary**: At the age of 7, Harry Potter disappeared. 10 years later, the world is in turmoil. The Order of the Phoenix struggles to survive as the Dark Lord reveals his mysterious Apprentice. AU

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

_Both of the boys widened their eyes in alarm, an exclamation of 'oh shit' was heard, and they both took off around a corner. The man tried to follow, but when he rounded the corner, there was no one in sight. Only one trace of evidence that the boys had been more than a hallucination remained: a small piece of an old t-shirt, lying on the path. _

Chapter 3: Harry Hunting 

Nymphadora Tonks sighed, not paying heed to any of the babbling Order members (excluding Snape, who wasn't allowed to attend such large meetings) around her. She had been so sure the boy in the paper had been Harry Potter. She didn't know why, but something had seemed so peculiar about him. In the end, she supposed, it had all come down to raw intuition. Tonks almost laughed aloud at herself. She was as clumsy as a drunkard after a ride on a Muggle tilt-a-whirl. Who was to say her intuition was any better than her gracefulness?

Maybe it had been the way she had been just thinking about Harry Potter as she walked towards Grimmauld Place to visit Remus and Sirius (but mostly Remus) and about how hard everyone had tried to find him. How she had wondered why on Earth it was so imperative to find the boy. Maybe it had been the way the Muggle newspaper had just flown into her face, forcing her to unwillingly create a domino effect on a few innocent passersby. And maybe, just maybe, it had been the way her eyes had registered that boy, the peculiar boy in the middle of destruction completely obsessed with finding something buried in the rubble of what had once been a building…

"What is he looking for?" Tonks fortuitously asked herself aloud.

Remus put a hand on her shoulder and she suddenly realized everyone was looking at her.

"Nobody knows," the lycanthrope replied.

"Whatever it was," a new voice entered the atmosphere, "he found it."

Dumbledore rose from his seat and crossed the room to a very weary looking Sirius Black, "He was still there? Was he a Muggle?"

"No," Sirius responded. "He was a wizard. A friend was with him. They mentioned Muggles, and I'm pretty sure they can Apparate."

As Sirius continued to tell the Order what he had witnessed since he had left Grimmauld Place an hour or so past, Tonks couldn't help but listen on the edge of her seat. Something strange was about to occur, she could feel it.

Dumbledore walked over and took the small shred of the boy's T-shirt out of Sirius's hands (although the latter seemed reluctant to let it go), "We can use this," he said, "to find the boy. I still doubt he is the one we are looking for, but there is always hope. We do not know why the building was attacked; perhaps the one in this picture has an answer or at least a clue." The Headmaster paused in order to let his words sink in. "Now I do believe some ancient magic is in order…"

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Hundreds of miles from Grimmauld Place, someone felt particularly uneasy. He got the sense that the game of 'Harry Hunting', which had been played since the day he was born, had been taken up a few notches. And although his cousin had seemed to thoroughly enjoy the sport, he preferred Quidditch to almost anything.

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Hello everyone! Short slightly boring chapter, I know, but bare with me, it is necessary. Actually, the only reason I was able to force myself to post this at all was because someone emailed me and I told them I'd probably get a chapter up by this weekend, not to mention all the lovely reviews I got. 

And **somebody guessed something right** in their review, although I won't reveal who or what till next chapter.

**To all those people who are also reading my fanfic Defending the Light**: Don't freak out that I'm updating more for this fic. It's just that I planned it in a way that DTL has really long chapters and I don't want to stray from my original outline too much. Devil's Apprentice, however, has much shorter chapters because I'm still making the story up (I have the main gist of it, but I'm not sure how it'll end yet and there's still some plotholes).

Yesterday my marching band performed in not one, but TWO competitions. GRAND CHAMPIONS, BABY! And we got runner-up Grand Champion at the second one, plus best auxiliary (YAY GUARD). So… go wildcats!


	4. The Writings on the Wall

**Harry Potter and the Devil's Apprentice**

**Summary**: At the age of 7, Harry Potter disappeared. 10 years later, the world is in turmoil. The Order of the Phoenix struggles to survive as the Dark Lord reveals his mysterious Apprentice. AU

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter.

I apologize again for the crappy third chapter. I did it in small spurts in between writing an essay and a lab report. And as I said before, I'm making this thing up as I go so it's a bit harder to write than some of my other stories. I can only promise this: the next chapters will be longer.

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_Hundreds of miles from Grimmauld Place, someone felt particularly uneasy. He got the sense that the game of 'Harry Hunting', which had been played since the day he was born, had been taken up a few notches. And although his cousin had seemed to thoroughly enjoy the sport, he preferred Quidditch to almost anything._

Chapter 4: The Writings on the Wall 

A brown-haired boy strutted haughtily into a dark room and an anomalous array of candles immediately sprang to life. He flopped onto a chair, waved his wand over himself and sighed with contentment as he transformed back into a pale, dignified looking, blond.

"My life," he sighed, "Is so difficult…"

"Says the heir to the Malfoy fortune to the lowly homeless kid," the black haired, green-eyed boy from the paper walked into the room and rolled his eyes at his friend.

Draco Malfoy snorted, "You're as much of a lowly homeless kid as the Queen of England. Besides, this is your home."

In one sweeping motion, the blond gestured grandly at their surroundings. Dank stone walls surrounded it, the rocky texture of them made all the more prominent in the presence of dim light that flickered ever so often as the odd assortment of candles randomly floating through the air slowly burned out. In the middle of the room was a plain wooden table with two entirely different chairs. A small bed lay in the corner, more hard than soft, and a few bookshelves lined the walls, packed with dark texts, some thought to be lost to world entirely. On the walls were hundreds of ancient symbols and writings in languages long forgotten by the average man. If not for the writings on the wall and the books on the shelves, the room would have been rather uninteresting.

"Okay," Malfoy said, "so maybe this isn't the most comfortable home…"

"On the contrary, I find this place quite comfortable," the raven-haired boy replied, "But it is just that, a place. Not a home."

"You're worried about something, man. What?"

The emerald-eyed teen cursed himself for forgetting to don his usual mask.

"That _man_ just startled me is all." Was his response.

"And you're nervous about today's encounter with Sirius Black why…?"

"I just don't enjoy being hunted. I know where my loyalty lies, and it's not with some moronic ministry, or some hopeless order…" there was a hint of malice in the young man's voice as he spoke. "And anyone who tries to convince me otherwise is not going to have a good time of it."

"OK…" Draco gave his friend a look, "You just need to calm down Jimmy-Jay. There's no way the ministry can get to you if you're in full disguise. It was probably just a coincidence Black spotted you anyway."

"There is no such thing as a coincidence," the other boy countered. "I feel as if something is about to happen, something is about to change. And do NOT call me Jimmy-Jay! If you were anyone else, you wouldn't have that stupid grin on your face just now."

Although he said it in a light manner, Draco didn't doubt it was the truth. He looked up at his companion, now tracing one of the odd patterns on the wall, muttering to himself.

He sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose as he murmured, "You're probably right, Draco. They won't find me. To the world, I am dead."

Not precisely," Malfoy countered. "To the world, you are Harry Potter. And they'll never give you any peace, whether the majority of them believes you to be dead or not."

A long silence followed. Something was changing, Harry knew, the sense of it hung heavy in the air. But for the moment he brushed it off and continued to trace the writings on the wall.

"I think," he murmured so low Draco could barely hear him, "it will be safe to journey to London again tomorrow."

---------------

"Yes, master," a cold female voice replied from behind a Death Eater's mask, "All has been accomplished as planned today. And tomorrow's excursion has been perfectly premeditated as well."

"Excellent," Lord Voldemort smiled maliciously. "Now where is my Apprentice? If they're not down here in ten seconds…"

At that moment, the door to the chamber burst open, revealing a foreboding looking figure, cloaked in dark gray. The only thing one could see under the figure's hood was a black mask that, though smooth as glass, reflected no light.

"My Lord," the Apprentice bowed low, "I apologize profoundly for keeping you."

The Apprentice's voice was low, raspy, and cruel. It was not the voice of a man, but of something unexplainable, something feared. A product of the mask, the voice was, to disguise the voice of the person behind it. The Apprentice had chosen the voice, much to the approval of the Dark Lord.

"Be thankful I'm in a good mood tonight Apprentice." Voldemort snapped.

"You are much too good to me, My Lord," the Apprentice bowed yet again.

"Lestrange, out!" the Dark Lord barked to the Death Eater, who was curiously watching the exchange.

Lestrange jumped, bowed, and rushed out of the room, not seeing, but feeling the Apprentice's burning gaze on her back. The Dark Lord chuckled.

"I hear everything has gone well, My Lord," the Apprentice murmured, "Our affairs will be much better dealt with now that Rockwood has been… punished for his treachery."

There was no change in the Apprentice's voice when he said it, yet Voldemort looked at his Apprentice searchingly, "You seem rather pleased that Rockwood is gone. Is there something I do not know about between you and him?"

"No, My Lord." The Apprentice replied, "Only a few, slight disagreements in judgment. He was only out for himself, and did not know how to serve his master properly. I assume that is why he failed so terribly at his last task."

The Dark Lord nodded, searching his Apprentice's mind and finding only contempt for his former Death Eater in it.

"Our only problem now, I suppose, is that we do not have a decent spy. The Order is becoming more secretive with each death, and now that Severus has been discovered…"

"You will find a way, My Lord. Ancient magic, fate is on your side."

Voldemort, satisfied with the proclamation, nodded yet again.

"Now then, my young Apprentice, I believe we still have some unfinished business to attend to. You weren't quite up to par on your lesson earlier today. You are to go to The Chambers and await punishment."

The Apprentice bowed yet again, "Yes, My Lord."

Voldemort grinned maliciously. His Apprentice was strong, stronger than anyone but himself, perhaps stronger than himself when it came to enduring pain. And all of the Apprentice's power belonged to him. His grin widened.

And on the other side of the mask, the Apprentice donned a malevolently delighted look that could rival the Dark Lord's.

* * *

Hi. Um… next chapter will be either somewhere around this size or much, much longer. Sorry it took so long to update. I was working on Defending the Light in most of my free time this week. 

There are now 2 people who guessed right on who the boys were. Congratulations to Nitasha and Shadowed Rains! The nicknames Harry and Draco gave themselves are indeed plays off of their father's first names. Jay-Jay equals James and Lu Lu equals Lucius.


	5. Deception

**Harry Potter and the Devil's Apprentice**

**Summary**: At the age of 7, Harry Potter disappeared. 10 years later, the world is in turmoil. The Order of the Phoenix struggles to survive as the Dark Lord reveals his mysterious Apprentice. AU

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter.

**I changed something in chapter 1.** You do not need to go back and reread it. All you need to know is that Snape did not fake an attempt on Dumbledore's life; he faked the murder of Dumbledore. Everyone but a few select members of the Order now believes Dumbledore is dead.

I know some of this stuff seems random, but everything is connected. The only question is: How? Yes, this is going to be one of those stories where you'll read something then go back and think: So this is what the author meant!

* * *

_Voldemort grinned maliciously. His Apprentice was strong, stronger than anyone but himself, perhaps stronger than himself when it came to enduring pain. And all of the Apprentice's power belonged to him. His grin widened._

_And on the other side of the mask, the Apprentice donned a malevolently delighted look that could rival the Dark Lord's._

Chapter 5: Deception 

Some people do more than fate will allow

And everyone's being deceived somehow

For not every word one hears is true

But in the end, the biggest fool

Is who?

_7:00 a.m., One of Voldemort's Many Strongholds: _

Bellatrix Lestrange had always prided herself on knowing just about everything that went on in the Dark Lord's inner circle. She was, after all, his most loyal servant. But now, for the first time in what seamed like forever, she was baffled. The Apprentice had come to her attention two years ago, but it was evident the Dark Lord's little protégé had been around for longer than that. How much longer, Bella could only guess. As she plodded along angrily down a long, stone hallway lit by torches, Bella sensed another presence coming from a corridor to her left. When she saw who it was, Bellatrix almost groaned aloud.

One of her archrivals was walking towards her. She had never seen him without his Death Eater mask on, but she knew who he was. She was probably one of about eight Death Eaters who knew. Although he would be a wonderful addition to anyone's army with his magical capability, Lestrange could not fathom why the Dark Lord let him live. He was immature and completely out of line when it came to respecting his betters. True, Bella had flirted a bit, he was young and seemed a fine prize, one of the Dark Lord's treasured followers. But she had soon found him to be completely unbearable to be around. And he thought too much. In Bellatrix's opinion, men who thought too much were dangerous, and although danger was often exhilarating, she would much rather flirt with power. That was why she had married Rodolphus after all.

"I heard you had an unfortunate run in with the Dark Lord last night. It's just like you, Bella, to poke your nose where it's most likely to get broken." her masked rival greeted her with a menacing laugh.

"How do you know this?" Bella snapped back at him, perturbed once more by the way he always seemed to know everything she did.

That was just it, his knowledge, which scared Bella most about him. True, the way he prowled around could be called intimidating by a lesser being, but Bellatrix wasn't at all fazed. And his magical ability, which was, though impressive, was not a hindrance to Lestrange at all. He was younger than her and she was confident she could beat him in a duel if that time ever arose. Yet his familiarity and overall comprehension of what went on within the Dark Lord's ranks made her blood run cold. She, Dolohov, Lucius, and two or three other little known Death Eaters within Voldemort's top ranks had always been the most knowledgeable in matters concerning the Dark Lord and other Death Eaters. She alone knew things concerning them she'd thought no one else did. She wasn't too sure about that anymore.

"I know a lot of things," he replied with an easy grace. "Word travels fast, especially when we don't want it to travel at all. Rumor is defiant that way."

She scoffed at his words, "I don't know why it matters. The Dark Lord was not angered in the least…"

He laughed again, "No, I suppose he would not concern himself over it. Although, that's probably because he knows there are those that will."

"Who?"

"I think we both know the answer to that."

Bella did know the answer, and it took much effort not to scream at him because of it.

"The Apprentice has nothing to do with… anything! No one even knows who he or she is."

"I have a feeling you believe that just about as much as I do." He looked directly at her, face completely concealed by his Death Eater mask, "You honestly don't think the Apprentice isn't pissed about you spying on them do you? And here I was actually giving your brains a little bit of credit. Rather idiotic of me really, I think being within a hundred kilometer radius of you may have dropped my IQ."

Bella glared at him with newfound gall, "You do have a tendency to forget whom you're talking to. I am one of the Dark Lord's closest followers and you can be sure I'll tell him all about your insolence! I'd love to hear you make a slipup like that in front of the Dark Lord."

"The Dark Lord can go fuck himself for all I care."

Bella stopped walking and just stood where she was, frozen in place with shock over the foolish child's last statement. That was what he was, a foolish child who knew nothing of the world and would meet his end soon enough. Bellatrix almost laughed aloud.

"How dare you? How dare you say something like that in the Dark Lord's own home?"

They had reached their destination now, one of the many arsenals in one of the Dark Lord's many lairs. Bella flicked her wand at the same time he did and their chosen weapons darted into their waiting grasps. Lestrange couldn't help but sneer at some of the useless Muggle weapons he chose. She promised herself that one day, she would take him down a few pegs. _She_ was the Dark Lord's most trusted servant, and his most knowledgeable. She alone would rise above the rest and stand at the Dark Lord's right hand side, even if she did have to deal with the Apprentice for a while. _That_ obstacle would be taken care of later.

Bella would make sure the Apprentice would fall if it were the last thing she did.

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_8:30 a.m., an Undisclosed Location: _

Michael Adrastos Katakottos sat at his computer with a scowl on his face. Dark Lord be damned, one of these days he was going to move somewhere no wizard had ever set foot in. He was sure he could find a secluded Muggle town somewhere tropical. But as of now, if he didn't do what he had to do, he was dead meat.

Running his hand through the soft brown hair that framed his handsome face, Michael checked the screen in front of him once more. Everything was going exactly as planned. The electronics around him glowed eerily in the dim lighting of the room, but for Michael, the light was comforting. One might even go as far as to say his computers were some of his closest friends.

Then, suddenly, without any premonition whatsoever, the screen went completely blank.

"Shit!" Michael cursed and began to pound different buttons on his keyboard, "It's totally shut down!"

"Was there some kind of power failure?" a gangly teenage boy with shoulder-length hair and glasses asked, a slightly fearful look on his face. "Should we tell J-Cat to abort?"

"No, damn it all! A power failure couldn't do this! Something's interfering with the system." Michael cursed again. "And I think our communication devices have gone dead as well. We can't send a Patronus or owl into a Muggle area, so someone needs to Apparate over to alert the others."

He didn't want to alarm anyone, but he was worried. Nothing could crack his system like this. It may sound arrogant, but it was true. No Muggle technology could interfere with his computers. It had to be some kind of magical interference causing the crash. A very powerful magical interference. But the few wizards capable of knocking out everything like that were either too far away or dead. Except for one, that is.

And that thought was the most frightening of all.

---------------

_8: 15 a.m., Outside of Buckingham Palace_

There was nothing stranger, Remus decided, than Albus Dumbledore in Muggle clothing. The man could have at least had the decency to wear something discrete. But no, he was in the middle of Muggle London wearing a loud tie-dye shirt, ripped jeans, and sneakers. He really couldn't help but sigh.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at him, "You don't approve of my attire, Remus?"

Lupin gave a short laugh, "For someone who's supposed to be dead you certainly don't act like it… I just question your motives of standing out so much when you're supposed to be in hiding."

Dumbledore chuckled, "I am in hiding. As of now, no one can see either you or me except a selected few who already know I'm alive. You really do need to question my motives more; you could learn some very interesting information that way."

Remus raised his eyebrows, once again in awe of the magical ingenuity shown by the man who had given him a second chance at life. There was still one thing that still baffled him however…

"If no one can see you anyway, why are you in disguise?"

Dumbledore's eye's twinkled just a little brighter.

"Who said this was a disguise? I happen to enjoy dressing like this for a change."

Before Lupin could even begin to contemplate that thin line between idiocy and genius the former Headmaster was walking upon, Nymphadora Tonks approached and he was too busy watching her to think very hard.

"Wotcher, Remus!" she greeted him brightly, "And Professor Dumbledore, awesome shirt, I'm now inspired. Next time I get a chance, I'm having multicolored eyes."

Lupin shook his head in amazement. How did people like Dumbledore and Nymphadora stay so optimistic in times of war? For some strange reason, their hope fueled his own.

"Is everything ready, Nymphadora?" he asked her.

"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus! Honestly. And to answer your question: yes. Everything is in place. The target has been spotted leaving an Internet Café and shows no signs of suspicious activity thus far. As soon as he gets into a decent position, the Aurors will do the rest." She looked up, "I really can't believe your plan involves manipulating the Ministry into helping us."

With a nod of his head Dumbledore replied, "From what I can sense, the target has started heading in this direction, towards the palace. I'm going to take precautions to ensure no thing magical or Muggle gets in the way of retrieving him. I do not believe he is Harry Potter, but I do believe he is important somehow."

Tonks nodded as well before taking off.

"Dumbledore," Remus started, "If you don't believe this young man is Harry Potter, who do you think _is_ Harry Potter? And where could _he_ be?"

The look in the Headmaster's eyes said it all.

How could Dumbledore, _Dumbledore_, give up hope? It just seemed unnatural. As for Remus, he didn't know what he thought. He knew Harry was important to the war somehow and the wizarding world needed him, yet he also knew _the_ Harry who had spit up on him as a baby and couldn't pronounce his name. Lupin wanted desperately to believe Harry was still out there somewhere, but it seemed the only people who really thought there was a chance of Harry being alive was Sirius and Nymphadora. And even if they were just fooling themselves with a completely irrational hope, Remus knew he could never thank them enough for believing in the prospect that gave him the strength to go on.

----------------

_8:22 a.m., Buckingham Palace Road_

"Did we _have_ to wear _these_ disguises?" Draco whined and patted his spiky, heavily gelled black hair.

"Hey," Harry countered, his black hair just as spiky as Malfoy's, "It was my turn to pick the disguises, and I say we go for the gothic punk look. Check this out."

Harry glared menacingly at a few people and about five of them immediately crossed over to the other side of the street.

"But do our pants _have_ to have chains on them?" When he received no response, Draco worriedly glanced at his friend, "Something bad is going to happen isn't it?"

Harry gave a short laugh before saying: "Do I look like a seer to you?"

Draco eyed his friend's strange, black, Muggle attire, which, in Draco's opinion, was alarmingly indecent, especially the jewelry. If men were supposed to wear earrings, they would have been born with holes in their ears.

"Well… you certainly don't _look_ like a seer…"

Harry snorted again, "Yeah. I wish I had some of my writings with me. And the sun could at least have the decency to quit blocking out the stars…"

"The sun never listens to anyone, Jimmy-Jay."

"I suppose so. But even if it did, it still wouldn't listen to me. No one ever seems to listen to me."

"People listen to you, I listen to you…"

Harry jerked his head towards Malfoy, "I never said it was a bad thing. Oh, and don't call me Jimmy-Jay! Sheesh, you're going to drive me insane one of these days."

"You're already insane."

"Oh yeah."

The two boys continued walking in silence for a moment before Harry spoke once again.

"Here's where we split. I know I've said it before, but I think something strange is going to happen today, so I'll say it again. _He_ knows we're here and if everything doesn't go perfectly, we're going to have a rough time sorting out a mistake."

"Alright," Draco replied tersely, "But do yourself a favor and relax a little. Running on three hours of sleep isn't going to help you either. You're exhausted, and personally, I think that if something unusual is going to happen today, you're not ready for it."

"I'm fine."

With those parting words, both boys set off to different locations, both locations right outside of Buckingham Palace.

----------------

_8:31 a.m., Buckingham Palace Road_

Kinglsey Shaklebolt was having a very long day, and it was only half past eight. Being the only Auror aside from Tonks who knew Dumbledore was still alive, he had been given the daunting task of making sure the Ministry was convinced that the strange kid who dug around in the rubble of destroyed buildings might be involved with the war somehow. How, he had no idea. In Shaklebolt's opinion, the boy was just one of You-Know-Who's random underlings. He had probably been at the attack on that building the other day and had probably been looking for something he'd dropped in the rubble that could have identified him to the Ministry yesterday. Nothing more, nothing less. And Shaklebolt felt he could be doing more constructive things with his time. Trying to find out more about the Apprentice for instance…

Kingsley kept his eye on the target, who was walking menacingly down the street. The Auror had seen many things in his life, and he found that the kid didn't disturb him in the least. What disturbed him was what the kid represented. The Ministry was very keen on arresting this boy because, basically, not many arrests had been made recently. The Death Eaters had been rather passive as of late; the attack on the building the other day had been the biggest attack of the month. And if the Ministry's eagerness to chuck anyone even slightly suspicious into Azkaban wasn't enough, Shaklebolt got the notion Scrimgeour and some other Ministry officials were scheming. Not even Dumbledore knew what they were doing. And speaking of Dumbledore, well… Dumbledore was scheming too. He would disappear for days at a time and tell no one where he was going. What was more, he seemed to have lost all use of his left arm. It wasn't too noticeable, but Kingsley was used to discerning things others overlooked.

Shaklebolt waited a moment longer before turning to the other Aurors under his direction.

"The target is entering a non-crowded area. We will quickly administer the charms on him so no Muggles will notice him. Then we will stun him on the count of three. Now go!"

The moment the charms started to hit, the boy put up a shield charm non-verbally. Thankfully, enough spells had been cast so the Muggles merely went on about their daily business.

Not bothering with one and two, Shaklebolt quickly called out "Three!" and the Aurors opened fire.

There was one instant where Shaklebolt's eyes met with those of the strange boy, and he suddenly felt as if he had been hit in the head. Clearing his mind, an exercise his grandfather had taught him in order to react quicker, Shaklebolt blew up the sidewalk from under his opponent. Taken slightly off guard, the teen's incredibly strong shield charm weakened just enough for a few of the stunners to hit him.

Then something happened that shocked Kingsley: the boy, instead of falling down unconscious, dropped to his knees in order to avoid getting hit even more and kept his shield charm up. He might have gotten away if he hadn't have been trying to Apparate while dropping to his knees. Shaklebolt mentally winced at the thought. Highly discrete Apparation wards, so discrete even You-Know-Who wouldn't have been able to sense them, was one of the precautions Dumbledore had taken to insure nothing could interfere with the plan. Trying to Apparate anywhere around the Palace would feel like the equivalent to crashing headlong into a concrete block. Taken off guard once more, the boy's shield charm weakened again and he hit his knee on a sharp place in the sidewalk where Kingsley had blown it apart, which also caught him unawares. Stunner after stunner hit him until he finally went down, unconscious.

Kinglsey accio-ed the teen's body to the small area where the Aurors had set up base. As soon as the kid was no longer out there, the Muggles started noticing the blown up piece of sidewalk. The Muggles, however, did not concern Shaklebolt. The kid in the paper, the one who looked for things in heaps of rubble and currently dressed in pitch-black Muggle clothing to match his pitch-black hair, was no ordinary underling. In fact, he was no ordinary person. No one Kingsley had ever known could fight off that many stunning spells, but that wasn't the strangest thing about him. When their eyes met, Kingsley had felt very odd, as if something had been pressing on his skull. He did not know what kind of magic the raven-haired boy had been using, but it was not anything he'd ever experienced before. Also, for a moment (and it was probably a trick of the light) the boy's eyes had seemed to glow…

Kingsley ordered everyone to alert the others, took precautions so that the teen would stay unconscious, and took care of a few other things that needed to be taken care of. He could not erase the feelings of unease that filtered through him, everyone appeared to be plotting something or the other, and for some reason, he felt the boy might be a connection to everyone else's schemes.

The Aurors left quickly and efficiently and life went on as usual for the people walking over the place where the fight had just broken out. And no one, magical or Muggle, paid any heed to the teenage boy with the lanky build and shoulder-length hair that skulked rapidly down the street, heading towards Buckingham Palace.

Some people do more than fate will allow

And everyone's being deceived somehow

For not every word one hears is true

But in the end, the biggest fool

Is who?

* * *

In the **Next Chapter**, a certain someone is not at all pleased when they wake up in a certain someplace they definitely don't want to be. 

**Why I Haven't Updated in Forever:** Not that anyone really cares, but I made a deal with myself that I would not update this until I updated Defending the Light (another fic of mine) since that one got more reviews. Turned out the chapter was harder to write than I thought. After a battle with writers block, I finally got close to done! Then I got writers block again and made up my own language. Then I made up a world that could have that language as their ancient language. Then I made up some characters for my world, which turned into me attempting to write an epic fantasy novel. Which I shall not give up on! Hopefully.

**Why I Did Update:** Honestly, I randomly re-read all the reviews I got for this story and felt the guilt pile on.

**I apologize to Fuai**, who also guessed right about Harry and Draco being the boys in chapter 2. If you are reading this, Fuai, I'm SO sorry I forgot to mention you!

**Michael Adrastos Katakottos's name means something** you guys will probably never figure out, but if anyone does, they get a special mention! Of course, I can't reveal what his name means for quite a while.

I've been told by my beta that I'm too wordy. Any constructive criticism and/or helpful hints pertaining to this flaw in my writing will be greatly appreciated. I'm also not quite sure how this whole chapter worked out since I was jumping around a lot. Please tell me what you think about it.

Hmm… you know, this story has more story alerts than reviews. Apparently, some people have been just as lazy as me!


	6. Motion

**Harry Potter and the Devil's Apprentice**

**Summary**: At the age of 7, Harry Potter disappeared. 10 years later, the world is in turmoil. The Order of the Phoenix struggles to survive as the Dark Lord reveals his mysterious Apprentice. Is all hope lost, or is it still lurking somewhere, in the darkest corners of the Earth? AU

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

_The Aurors left quickly and efficiently and life went on as usual for the people walking over the place where the fight had just broken out. And no one, magical or Muggle, paid any heed to the teenage boy with the lanky build and shoulder-length hair that skulked rapidly down the street, heading towards Buckingham Palace._Chapter 6: Motion 

The overall mood at the Ministry of Magic was the same as usual. For dark times that made it easy to lose all happy thoughts within the shadows had overtaken it. The air stirred and no one bothered to stop and think why. None aware that every little thing that happened set into motion a chain of events that were impossible to correct, especially in the dangerous days in which they lived. No one took the trouble to wonder why the Minister and a few top rank Aurors had suddenly been called away. The Minister was always doing something lately, but nobody knew what. Some even ceased to care. All that mattered was that they live another day, and that their families live another day. So naturally, the presence of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin only caused a few whispers throughout the halls.

But if one were to venture further into the depths of the Ministry of Magic building one would find a completely different story.

The strange black-haired boy had been brought to a room in the Ministry. The Aurors had found two wands, a pack of gum, and a variety of Muggle weapons on his person. Mostly knives were found, ones meant for throwing, but there was also a small Muggle weapon the Aurors were not at all familiar with. Not to mention the strange Muggle devices found in the boy's knapsack. There was talk of calling down Arthur Weasley from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, but Scrimgeour nixed that idea. It was bad enough, he concluded, that Black and that werewolf Lupin had to be there. In fact, if it had been up to Scrimgeour, they wouldn't be there at all. He had no love for Black, who, despite being innocent, had encouraged many people to loose faith in the Ministry by revealing the mistake they had made by imprisoning him. Black himself was a pain to deal with; in fact, Scrimgeour often found himself losing his temper around the man. And Lupin did little to bring prestige to anyone with whom he associated. Scrimgeour did not consider himself a bigot. He did admire Lupin somewhat, and if Lupin were human, Scrimgeour would have loved to convince him to be on the side of the Ministry, instead of teaming up with Dumbledore, who was no use to anyone anymore since the man was now dead. But Scrimgeour was determined to let bygones be bygones; Lupin was a werewolf and thus, no use to him. In the end, Scrimgeour's only wish was that one-day the war would be over and more people than not would live to see it through.

Everything was going on with what seemed increasing lethargy and more than just a little apathy as the boy was inspected, until one of the Aurors noticed some light magic on his forehead. Waving her wand over it, the Auror did find something, a simple concealing charm, so small she had nearly missed it. When she removed the charm, she let out a gasp that caused all attention in the room to turn to her. In that instance, the entire mood of everyone there changed drastically. In one fell swoop the melancholy was gone and shock, astonishment, awe, and a fair bit of relief and joy replaced it. The search of the boy's knapsack was all but forgotten.

Scrimgeour didn't quite know what to think. All he knew was that the situation somehow had to be manipulated to benefit the purposes he had in mind and. And noble as some of his purposes were, he had a feeling he might have a hell of a time getting certain people to agree to his plans. Not that he was going to reveal his plans to anyone yet. In the end, he had no idea if what had just been discovered was going to cause more problems than it was worth. He didn't know how the event had come to be, but all that really mattered to him was what it would mean for the future.

For all he knew (and if the lightening bolt scar was really any indication), Mr. Harry James Potter had just risen form the dead.

-----------------

One eye opened to find nothing but a blur of colors and strange, amoeba-like shapes. Harry Potter groaned with annoyance. The spell that temporarily enhanced his vision had worn off. His contacts and glasses were in his knapsack, but he could not remember for the life of him where he put it. Then he remembered the fight…

"_Damn_!" He thought to himself as closed both of his eyes again.

Malfoy had been right; he hadn't been ready for something like an attack. He assumed the attackers worked for the Ministry; they had all been working together under the direction of one person, that was for sure. And although they had been wearing somewhat different Muggle disguises, there had been a sort of dress code they had all followed. They had all worn T-shirts and jeans and the man in charge had been wearing a suit. That man… if only he hadn't… but there was no time to dwell on it.

Harry quickly went over the statistics in his mind:_ "I'm in the only cell (4 meters by 4 meters) in a room (10 meters by 15 meters) with stone walls and about five torches (magically lit). No windows… but strangely enough, the one door in the rooms is unlocked. Number of living, macroscopic organisms in the room: Two. One is me, the other is another male (medium height, strong build – probably had training)…"_

Harry thought he could risk it.

"Excuse me, do you happen to know where my things are?" He asked in the most polite voice he could manage.

The man in the room, who was most likely guarding him, jumped about a foot in the air and turned around so quickly it almost looked as if he had Apparated himself to face the other side of the room.

"Please answer me," Harry tried again, "Do you know where my knapsack is?"

"I… I… it… yes." The man responded. "It's on the table."

Harry nodded. By what he could tell, the man was very young, perhaps eighteen or nineteen.

"Can you bring me my glasses, please?" Harry asked him.

"I… I've been ordered to alert someone immediately once you've awoken." The young man responded. "I can't disobey orders."

"Well…" Harry said, "I don't want to keep you from your duties, it's just that I really can't see very well at the moment. I don't know where I am… all I want is my glasses."

The man hesitated for a moment, "Are they in your knapsack?"

"Yes," Harry replied. "Has anyone searched it or confiscated anything?"

"Well, they searched it," the young man responded as he picked up the knapsack, "But no one told me what they found. Although… they must have found something pretty interesting in it."

"Why is that?"

The man looked at Harry as if he was very strange indeed.

"Because you're Harry Potter, of course!"

Harry kept his face completely blank, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Look, I doubt you're going to find my glasses in there; they're in a certain little pocket inside of the knapsack. Can you just hand me to whole thing?"

The man did and Harry reached in a pulled out a pair of round glasses and put them on. Then he reached in and pulled out a cellular phone.

"Hey!" the young man, who, Harry now saw, was wearing a badge that said: 'Auror in Training', "What are you doing? Isn't that one of those telephone things Muggles use?"

"I need to call someone."

"But..." the man took a step forward.

The instant he did, Harry grabbed him around the neck with one arm as he held his hands in place with another. He then pulled the man's back against the bars, making sure the he had no access whatsoever to his wand.

"You don't think," Harry whispered in the man's ear, "That I would allow anyone to listen to my private calls, did you? I'm afraid your little announcement about my being awake will have to happen sometime after _you're_ awake."

"What do you…?"

Before the 'Auror in Training' could complete his question, Harry conked him on the head in such a way that he immediately passed out. Sometimes basic Muggle techniques were quicker and much more efficient than magical ones.

"That was way too easy," Harry muttered to himself, "You'd think the Ministry, incompetent as it is at times, would at least have the capability to guard a weakened prisoner. Voldemort would have never… Ah! Here it is!"

Harry pulled a small bottle of potion out of his knapsack and quickly drained it of its contents, relieved nothing had been disturbed. He suspected no one had looked too carefully into his knapsack, because many of the charms hiding various things in it were still effective. Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed the number of someone he knew could tell him what the hell was going on.

"Hey, Lulu. It's Jay-Jay." He said into the phone. "Yes, I have reason to speak in code! Where are you?" a pause. "Thank, Merlin!" another pause. "Is M-Dog freaking out? Mm-hmm… Wait! How could _that_ happen?" pause, "I don't know if it was him or not." He paused to listen once more, "How's Knife? If someone is going to go ballistic over this, it will be Knife." Pause, "Thank, Merlin once again! Some Aurors attacked me and I think I'm at the Ministry of Magic, but I believe it will be very easy to escape. I'm going to try and make this work to my advantage; maybe I can discover what the Ministry wants with me. And yes, they did find out who I am. Anyway, I'll call you later. And Lulu, you were right. I… should have listened to you."

Harry shoved the cell phone back into his knapsack before taking out a common Muggle hairpin and unlocking the cell. He gingerly stepped over the motionless body lying on the floor and walked towards the door. Though unlocked, it had many silencing charms on it so those in the other room could not be heard. Harry grabbed his wand, which was lying on the same table his knapsack had been, and disabled them. He then prepared to strain his ears to listen, or possibly use something to aid his hearing. Any measures such as those, however, proved very unnecessary indeed. The people on the other side of the door were discussing their views quite loudly.

"YOU CANNOT LOCK HIM UP LIKE THIS!"

"FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME, BLACK, THE BOY IS… OH FOR THE LOVE OF… WE NEED TO DISCUSS…"

"WE DON'T _NEED_ TO DISCUSS FOR ANOTHER HOUR; HE _NEEDS_ MEDICAL ATTENTION!"

"Minister, Sirius, please." A voice broke in between the belligerent words; "We need to discuss this in an appropriate, adult manner. We all know what you want for Mr. Potter, but what about what he wants for himself. Don't you think we should consider what might happen if he doesn't want to go along with either of you?"

There was a long pause where nobody said anything, and the man who had broke up the squabbling sighed. Harry couldn't help but snicker. The whole situation was entirely too amusing.

"I agree." A deep baritone cut into the silence, "Potter turned seventeen yesterday. Legally speaking, he doesn't have to listen to either of you. And yet…"

"What?" the Minister's voice half-growled as the deep voice cut off.

"He is… strange. Maybe a little dangerous… I don't know! We need to find out whose side he is on and quick."

"He is not a Death Eater!" the man named Black said rather haughtily.

The man with the deep voice sighed, "Just because he doesn't have a Dark Mark doesn't mean he's on our side."

"What do you mean?"

A sonorous laugh filled the room, "You want to know what I mean? Take a look at me. Just because I'm wearing a three-piece-suit doesn't mean I'm not dangerous. And a person can be as polite and mannerly as can be, that doesn't mean they won't kill you." He laughed again, "Perhaps they'll even be polite and mannerly about it!"

The room was then silent, except for a solitary clapping sound. Everyone turned their heads immediately to see Harry Potter walking out of one of the doors leading into the room, the door that led from the cell area.

Harry surveyed his surroundings. This room was also stone, but it had a few of those fake windows in it and more torches. There were few pieces of furniture, just a long wooden table and some chairs in which the occupants sat.

The occupants themselves were also a concern. Four people sat in the chairs: the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, the dark-haired man that Harry had seen yesterday, Sirius Black, the Auror who had led the attack on him earlier that day, and a brown-haired man Harry thought he recognized from somewhere but couldn't quite place.

"How did you get out?" Scrimgeour asked with a politeness that seemed incredibly forced.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Wouldn't you like to know."

He turned his gaze to Sirius Black, whose attentive stare was starting to annoy him immensely. He glared at Black with piercing eyes.

"H… Harry?" Black almost whispered, his voice unbelieving.

"Yeah, what?" When Sirius couldn't find the words, Harry snorted, "Oh screw it all! You people are bloody pathetic. I'm leaving."

The Auror who had been in charge of the attack stepped right in front of him as Harry made his way to the door. He was tall, dark, and rather dangerous looking when he wanted to be. Harry drew himself up to full height and tried to look as menacing as possible while still remaining half a head shorter than the Auror. The two had a bit of a standoff, neither budging an inch, both looking as if they'd walk through a brick wall just to prove their point.

"You," the Auror said, "Are not going anywhere until certain questions are answered. The first one being: what happened to the person guarding you and how did you get out? We had that cell you were in specially made to alert someone if magic was performed inside of it."

Harry laughed, "I suspected that was the case. But even without magic, getting out of the cell was much too simple. As for the bloke who was guarding me, it shouldn't take too long for him to regain consciousness."

The Auror folded his arms and glared, "He's unconscious?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Relax, it's not like I killed him or anything."

"So you have killed before." The Auror replied easily.

"I never said that. The fact remains that you have no solid evidence against me. Thus, I should not be here. But then again, the rules around this place seem to be 'guilty until proven innocent' these days."

Something flashed in the Auror's eyes. His brow furrowed, and he looked as if he were trying to solve some kind of puzzle. Harry decided not to worry about it, he had his own puzzles to solve, and the pieces were scattered far and wide.

"What do you want, Minister?" Harry asked abruptly.

Scrimgeour must have decided not to cut corners for once and got to the point. Something about Potter led him to believe the boy would see through any kind of act he put on.

"I want to ask you," the Minister began, "To consider a proposal. I'm not too concerned about what you have or have not done in the past. The fact remains that you are Harry Potter. You can single-handedly repair the wizarding world's morale that has been previously broken by the Apprentice. The Ministry would be happy to assist you throughout your life if you…"

"Become the Ministry's poster boy? I don't think so." Harry interrupted.

Scrimgeour's fists clenched, "Then you will be kept in custody until we can find out why you refuse my offer. Shaklebolt, make sure he doesn't get away."

There was a moment in the room where silence reigned. Both Harry and the Auror, Shaklebolt, stared blankly at Scrimgeour as if the man had gone mad. Then, Sirius Black, who had been surprisingly silent throughout the strange passing of events, spoke.

"You can't do that." He said, looking calmer and more dangerous than he had had the entire day.

"I can and I will," the Minister replied icily, "This is a time of war and certain precautions must be taken. If he is not with us, he may very well be with the Death Eaters."

"Just because he isn't with us doesn't mean he's against us," the brown-haired man spoke in Harry's defense.

"Lupin is right," Shaklebolt agreed, although he seemed rather reluctant about it, "So far as we've seen the boy has broken no laws. It is not a crime to remain neutral."

Scrimgeour looked as if he was fighting to stay calm, "What about all those Muggle weapons we found on him?"

"These are dangerous times for everyone, why wouldn't I want to protect myself?" Harry broke in.

The Minister took a deep breath before saying: "Black, make your proposal to the boy. It may be of some use after all."

Black appeared to be lost for words, but quickly recovered.

"Harry," he started, "I don't know much about you and what you've been up to these past… well… this past decade. But, I have always hoped that, if you want a place to stay, you could come live with me. I don't know if anyone has ever told you this, but… I'm your godfather and your parents wanted me to take care of you if anything should ever happen to them. I know I could never take their place but I could provide you with everything you need until you'd be ready to leave and…"

"No." said Harry simply.

"Then you're under arrest," the Minister stated. "I want to keep an eye on you, Potter. These are dangerous times, and you are still too suspicious a character to let out of my sight. I don't trust you living on your own without a guardian."

Before Harry could respond, Lupin spoke, "May I ask humbly request permission to speak to Mr. Potter in private, please."

The way Lupin said it, it was more a statement than a question.

"Fine." Harry and Scrimgeour grumbled at the exact same time, causing both men to glare at each other.

Lupin nodded curtly and headed to the room Harry had previously occupied before barging into the conversation. Harry followed close behind.

"You know," Harry smirked as Lupin shut the door and placed a few silencing charms on it, "I could easily murder you in here and nobody would know until your body was found."

Lupin laughed then, actually laughed.

"I have faith in my ability to defend myself," he replied. "Although I must say, I also have quite a bit of faith in you. A little too much faith, most likely. But I was betrayed once, so I think, if you were really going to turn on me, I could spot the signs much easier than I did before. Don't take me as one to blindly trust, I know you've probably deceived many people already."

Lupin looked the Auror in Training that was still sprawled on the floor where Harry had hit him.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, not for the first time that day.

Lupin looked Harry in the eyes, "If you are who I think you are, I want you to live happily. I want you to live the life you deserve. Tell me, Harry, do you have a place to go?"

"First I was 'Mr. Potter' and now I'm 'Harry', what brought about this change?" Harry snapped.

Lupin laughed again, "I'm sorry. My guard has dropped a bit I suppose. I was trying to be polite and respectful, you see, but I was just remembering a time when you were just Harry, the Harry who would drink from a bottle and spit up on me on occasion."

"You knew me as a baby?" Harry asked, his face completely blank.

"I did. There was many a time I wished to visit you in your youth, but the Ministry refused to let me anywhere near you. Now tell me, do you have a home?"

"Not a home." Harry replied, "But I do have somewhere to go."

Lupin nodded, "I know very well how that story goes. If you want to try something new, I suggest you consent to stay with Sirius. He's a very agreeable person once you get to know him and would treat you well. I'm not asking you to see this my way. Merlin knows, I don't have much of an idea about what you've been up to these past years and relocating might cause you unwanted difficulty. But look at it this way: Scrimgeour isn't going to stop hassling you until he is sure you won't be a threat to the wizarding world… and the Ministry's public rep. Scrimgeour apparently thinks that you staying with Sirius will give him a better chance to keep an eye on you."

"So if I go with Black," Harry said, "I'll not only have free room and board, but also get Scrimgeour off my back. That's what you're saying?"

"Indeed. But you don't have to stay there long if you don't find it to your liking. If you do decide to leave, Sirius and I can cover for you so the Ministry will still be out of your hair and you can go back to how you were living previously, in hiding. Although, we will probably want to keep in touch."

Harry turned to Lupin, "What do you suggest?"

Since Harry's face was still pretty blank, it was impossible to tell which of the two was more surprised by Harry's last question.

"I would suggest," Lupin began, "That you stay at Sirius's place for a couple days. You could go in and out as you please, but I think it best you get used to the atmosphere over there before you decide you dislike it because it's different than what you're used to."

Harry closed his eyes, still refusing to show emotion. Lupin could almost see the wheels turning in the boy's head. Harry was weighing his options, deciding if what Lupin suggested would really benefit him in any way. He then opened the door and walked through it, heading towards where the others sat.

"I am going to stay with Sirius Black," Harry announced. "So you don't have to waste a cell in Azkaban on me, Minister, although I'd probably just have escaped anyway. Personally, sitting around with a bunch of dementors seems like a waste of my time." He then turned and motioned towards Lupin, "I kind of like this guy. Why don't you have more people like him working here?"

The throbbing vein in the Minister's forehead reminded Harry very much of someone he wished he could forget.

"He doesn't work here!" the Minister snapped.

Harry blinked, "He doesn't? Why not?"

"Because," Scrimgeour practically growled, "Remus Lupin is a werewolf."

Lupin's eyes shot to the floor, as if the man feared to look at Harry or anyone else. Before he dropped his gaze, however, Harry caught a flash of what appeared to be shame hidden in their depths. Other than that, the werewolf did not react.

Harry blinked again, "So…"

"What do you mean by _that_?" the Minister asked, exasperated.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Just because he turns into a monster once a month doesn't mean he's not human 353 days out of the year. And I must say, he's a much better human than certain people in this very room." Harry paused and glanced around the room, "I do believe, Minister, that you wish for a moment to talk with Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black. I will wait outside the door until you have finished your business with them."

No one could do anything but stare as Harry exited the room with a slight bow. The sarcastic teen they had previously dealt with had, at the last moment, seemingly transformed into a polite young man. A young man in pants with chains on them, but a polite one nonetheless. The occupants of the room were now faced with two options to believe. Either Harry Potter could hide his emotions very well and was prone to violent mood swings, or Harry Potter was a very, very good actor.

As for Harry Potter himself, he'd gotten all he wanted from the situation.

"I will depart as well then, Minister." Shaklebolt said, before turning abruptly and following Harry outside.

Once in the hall, the Auror turned on Harry, who merely stood silently and listened to what the older man had to say.

"Look, kid," Shaklebolt said harshly, "I only defended you in there because what Scrimgeour was trying to do was wrong. I've seen too many innocent people thrown into Azkaban because of this government. But that doesn't mean I think that _you_ are innocent. In fact, I don't trust you at all. Boy-Who-Lived or not, the Minister isn't going to be the only one keeping an eye on you, Potter."

Harry let out a short laugh, "It would be in your best interest to stay away from me and everything associated with me, Auror Shaklebolt."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Perhaps I was, or perhaps I was merely giving you some useful advice."

Shaklebolt raised an eyebrow before turning to walk away, looking calm, but alert. Before he was out of sight, however, the Auror turned and said:

"Before I go, let me give some useful advice as well, Potter. If you were to do anything unsavory, it would be in your best interest to stay away from me. Like I mentioned before, I don't trust you."

"Smart man…" Harry murmured once Shaklebolt was out of site, "Too bad he has no idea what he may have gotten himself into."

Harry laughed darkly and absentmindedly fiddled with his wand, waiting for Black and Lupin to emerge. He didn't have to wait long. Soon enough, the two were accompanying him outside and a charm was cast over all three of them to avoid eavesdroppers.

"How many know?" Harry asked while exiting the Ministry, "How many know who I am, that I'm alive?"

"At the moment, only a few Aurors." Black responded.

Lupin nodded, "I think Minister Scrimgeour is going to hold off on revealing that you're alive until he is certain you will improve morale instead of lowering it even more. The Boy-Who-Lived alive and on the side of the light would be a great success story for Scrimgeour's administration. The Boy-Who-Lived alive and against the Ministry would cause problems."

Harry nodded and became silent. He wondered briefly where Black lived and what his home was like. A small apartment came to mind, a cluttered little bachelor pad with dirty clothes strewn over every surface. Harry almost sighed aloud. If he was going to live with someone for a time, he wished it didn't have to be someone so… He didn't quite know how to describe it. What he sensed from Black was not something he was very familiar with.

"So…" Black said nervously, "We have a ways to go before we reach my place. I thought that since it's here in London we should just take the underground. Um… Could you tell us something about yourself, Harry?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up, "Why do _you_ want to know? And what do you want to know? Don't think I'll spill every little detail about my life to you just because…"

"I'm not trying to pry!" Black quickly exclaimed, "I just… want to know what you've been up to. You don't have to tell me everything yet… or ever, if you don't want to. But, well… why not tell us why you disappeared from your Aunt and Uncle's house all those years ago?"

"I ran away. End of story." Harry muttered impassively.

Harry continued walking in silence and jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Black, looking at him with a peculiar gleam in his eyes. They had reached the entrance to the underground and were walking down into the darkness.

"I ran away too," Sirius said quietly.

For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the knowledge hit Harry like a ton of bricks.

"I was sixteen," continued Black, who seemed unsure of what to do, "My parents were really in to the whole pureblood-mania thing. They always had been, actually. It drove me crazy, even when I was young. They were always looking down on other people I thought were great. At first, I just thought I was weird, but my Uncle Alfred told me differently, saying it was OK to question what was right and wrong. Eventually, I started to become the bane of my parent's existence. I was always asking them why they thought purebloods were better and the more they tried to explain the more ludicrous their beliefs began to sound to me. Then I got sorted into Gryffindor and made friends with people whom my parents considered blood-traitors and all hell broke loose. From then on, every time I was at home my mum would yell at me, telling me how terrible I was and how absolutely wonderful my younger brother, Regulus was. She screamed it at me so much I actually started to believe it. Occasionally she'd throw things at me as well. My father, meanwhile, would just trod silently around the house when I was there, looking at me as if I were the vilest creature on Earth. I should have known he'd crack sooner or later..."

Black trailed off and looked fleetingly towards Lupin.

"It's fine, Sirius." Lupin said without even a second glance at his friend.

"What's fine?" Harry asked.

"Procyon Black," Lupin responded, "Cracked the second he discovered his eldest son was best friends with a werewolf."

"Yeah… I hadn't seen that coming." Sirius gave a short laugh that didn't meet his eyes. "I had shut myself up in my room for almost the entire day in hopes of avoiding my mother. Come nightfall, however, I ran out of food and decided to risk going downstairs to get some more for my private stash. Little did I know, my dad was in the kitchen, drunk. He'd found out Remus, one of my closest friends, was a werewolf. The moment he saw me, he started shooting off hexes in my direction. I dodged most of them since my dad's aim was a bit off. He did hit me with some nasty ones though. He also managed to lock the door so I couldn't get out, but I escaped through a window. That night, as I walked through London in the pouring rain with no wand, no coat, and no shoes, I was sure of only one thing: I was free. I was also pretty damn miserable after awhile. At three o'clock in the morning I finally found the Leaky Cauldron and snagged some Floo Powder so I could get over to your dad's place. You should have seen the look on James's face when I showed up at his house before dawn and sneezed all over his glasses because of the cold I'd gotten! Now, I look back on that night and think: thank Merlin it wasn't winter!"

Harry smiled slightly, "Yeah. Nothing is colder than being stuck in the middle of a snowstorm with no one to turn to and no place to go."

Sirius and Remus both looked at Harry, their faces showing signs of something Harry saw only on very rare occasions, and never directed at him, a kind of understanding… But Harry ceased to care. His heart just wasn't in something so useless. For his heart had frozen with the snow one fateful night long ago, when the air he had breathed was colder than in any other place in the world.

"Here's our stop," Lupin said suddenly.

Harry blinked. He'd barely remembered boarding the metro. Nonetheless they had arrived at their intended destination. He wondered briefly if he should question the two men some more. Thinking about it, Harry would rather not speak again, but if he was going to get any information out of them, he was going to have to gain their trust.

"Are you stopping by his place too?" Harry asked Lupin.

"Actually, I live at Sirius's house." Lupin responded.

Harry blinked. The bachelor pad he had imagined was suddenly filled with both Lupin and Black, making it overcrowded in his mind.

"So are you guys good friends, or really good friends?" Harry smirked, unable to resist asking.

Sirius burst out laughing and Lupin made a strangled sort of groan.

"Why does half the world think that I'm…?"

"Aw, Moony!" Sirius interrupted his friend's tirade, "Maybe if you'd work up the courage to actually ask a certain someone out, people wouldn't assume your feigned disinterest in women is more than, well… feigned."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Does he have a fear of commitment or something?"

"She deserves better than what I can give her!"

"There's someone in particular?" Harry inquired.

"Can we not talk about my pathetic, nonexistent love life?"

"My cousin," Sirius confirmed. "She's head over heels for him too. Only the wanker is too busy being noble to notice."

Harry nodded, "Is it only you two living there then?"

Black let out a laugh that sounded a lot like a bark, "No. In fact, you'd think I was running a bed and breakfast seeing how many people are inhabiting my humble abode!"

Harry suddenly got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Who all is there?" He asked warily.

"Well…" Sirius began, oblivious to Harry's predicament, "There's the Weasley's. Their family is doing so much for the war, so when they needed a place to stay to keep their children safe, I told them they were welcome to stay at mine. Then there's the Granger's. They're Muggles, but their daughter is a witch and at the top of her class at Hogwarts. The family got attacked because some Death Eaters didn't like the fact that a Muggle-born was getting better grades than every pureblood in the school. They're staying at my place for safety. The Bone's are staying over. A few of their relatives were murdered and they're afraid they'll be next. My cousin, Tonks, stops by so much she might as well live there. Kingsley, you know him as Auror Shaklebolt, comes over a lot. And another boy, Dean, is staying too because he's a Muggle-born and possibly a danger to his family. I have reason to believe Voldemort wants him dead, but I'm not entirely sure why… Is something wrong, Harry?"

Harry didn't answer. The little apartment he'd pictured Sirius living in was getting smaller and smaller as more and more people appeared in it. He suddenly felt claustrophobic. The idea of having so many people around made his head spin.

"I'm fine." Harry mumbled, "I just don't do very well with people."

Sirius laughed, "You're doing just fine with us."

"Yes, but this is necessary! And I'm pretty sure neither of you are going to kill me anytime soon..."

"Hold on a second," Lupin interjected, "You're saying that if it is necessary to speak and you are sure that those you are speaking to aren't going to kill you, you're just fine, but you have difficulties talking for fun?"

"My persuasive skills are OK, my small talk, not so good. People are bound to ask something along the lines of 'How are you doing?' and 'What have you been up to lately?' and other questions I don't want to answer," was the reply.

"Bring up Quidditch!" Sirius suggested.

Harry inwardly sighed, exasperated. Black was supposed to be one of the leading exponents in the fight against Voldemort. He was supposed to have been very close to Dumbledore before he died. He was supposed to have some more useful information than 'Bring up Quidditch' to disclose… But just as Harry was starting to regret his decision to go along with Black, he was handed a small piece of parchment that said in narrow, loopy handwriting:

_The headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. _

After reading, Harry looked up, not fully comprehending what was happening. The instant he did, another house between number eleven and number thirteen started to reveal itself.

"Here we are," Sirius announced, "My London home. Also known as the Official Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix!"

Harry was sure that if he weren't so good at hiding his emotions, his jaw would have dropped the ground.

"_Order Headquarters,"_ he thought with an overwhelming sense of awe, _"When I told Draco I'd try to make this whole situation work to my advantage, I had no idea things would turn out to be this advantageous..."_

* * *

Hooray for hiding information in pronouns, codenames, and one-sided phone conversations!

**In the next Chapter**, enter: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and quite a few others. What are their lives like now since Harry has not been a part of them? Plus, Harry is about to meet a character he will inevitably and constantly clash with.

I wasn't trying to make people feel guilty about not reviewing when I wrote that this story had more alerts than reviews; I did say "some people have been _just as lazy as me!_" This clearly implies that I can be pretty lazy myself. I just thought it was rather amusing. Want to know what else is amusing? This story still has more alerts than reviews!

'Procyon' is the name of a star; it means "before the dog" in Greek. In the northern hemisphere, Procyon rises just before the "Dog Star," Sirius. I thought it was an appropriate name for Sirius's father.

Yes, I know, I don't update enough. I did have this chapter done a week ago but my beta was busy and it got put on hold. I was also working on my original story some more and got distracted. It's coming along ok, except in my attempt to make one of the worlds most perfect villains, my antagonist has become pretty damn invincible. I need a good way to defeat this guy without killing my protagonist and destroying the world. Lately though, I've been really sick, and am still really sick right now, so I haven't been doing much of anything the past few days. One the bright side, I got all A's on my report card (see, I actually work hard when I'm not writing… most of the time).


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